


heart of the earth

by millimallow



Series: the world of owa [23]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Family Relationships - Freeform, Gen, Some Description of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 22:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millimallow/pseuds/millimallow
Summary: pt 24 of the world of owa series, set on great coyote rock.





	heart of the earth

we’ve been waiting a few days for the rain now. and on the day it comes we’re on our knees, breathing in the scent as it hits the clay-lain earth and rolls down the hills. suddenly everything is loose and wet and moldable enough to be pressed into last year’s vases and pots for use later on. perhaps most of the great coyote rock is uninhabitable, but even in the most barren of places you can find use for what you come across.

for half of the year, or thereabout, great coyote rock is in bloom. the richer portions of soil sprout flowers and grasses for miles, so that when you look over the horizon on one of the scarce stiffer peaks you’ll be able to see the green all the way to the sun. even if the rich soil does not go deep enough for trees to sprout further than the height of a young child, and even if the plants which do grow are scrub lined with angry spines, we take our goats and our sheep to the land so that they can graze in peace and pleasantry. wood is taken from our more fertile space and laid on the land so that they have a stable at night.

it’s not called great coyote rock for no reason, after all.

the story which i remember most vividly from my childhood is from this time of the year. for us young folks, the migration away from the island- where our schooling consisted largely of rough play and farming- and back to the town was one of disappointment. but our protests were unsurprisingly ineffective at holding the rainy season away. one morning waiting around the family boat, the sky would cloud over and begin to ache and cry. then it was over- save for one last day. on that final day we would be let loose onto the island to gather the wet and flexible earth which handled water so poorly that it simply soaked through and began to ran. when stored properly, this was a potent sealant and particularly useful for the production and storage of food. but of course i and my friends were much too young to understand the gravity or meaning of the situation at hand. we were playing a game of danger and excitement, running up hills and sinking our hands into the wet clay. it was a perfect game until somebody got hurt.

during the season of sun we would always travel in groups bearing weapons. children who could be trusted with responsibility could be trusted with weapons, and vice versa, so i learnt to use a small crossbow from a young age. we had nothing but respect for the coyotes, and left them alone if it was at all possible. most of the time this worked. but while amongst the meeker of the canines, a coyote cannot be trusted around a child. in a situation where defending yourself might be necessary, you should always be prepared. but during the season of rain, we were more apathetic. coyotes would come out during the drier nights, but not in the humid and all-penetrating daytime rain. so my parents were content to send me with my sister out to the great coyote rock for the collection of earth without holding our weapons or supervision. and i’ve never held it against them, because we got unlucky more than anything.

we had been swept off of our path by the flow of a particularly aggressive downhill stream emerging as a complete surprise, becoming lost in the aftermath. with the island deserted by the majority of its inhabitants, and few people coming as inland as we had, nobody was around to provide us with directions or advice. not to mention the rain and the slippery earth looked the same practically everywhere, loose vegetation with short and brusque roots being unearthed violently as if to remove all potential markers of location. all we could do was follow our instincts and our memories until we found anything that could point us in the direction we needed to go.

then we saw it. a shifting, moving being in the distance. we were ready to assume in our desperation that it was one of the hounds belonging to another family who camped on the island. maybe separated from them, or guarding others like us sent to gather the earth. it had the canine shape we were so familiar with, too tall and slender to be one of the goats or sheep. and we headed towards it, hand in hand like we were marching to market. and in much the same way as we saw it in the distance and took it as a sign, the coyote saw us.

only when we were at a close distance could we understand the situation that we had put ourselves in. the grey and orange painting of the creature’s fur coat was now more obvious, as was the way in which its snout deviated from that of any friendly dogs’. and so was its hungry snarl, full of desire and thankfulness for the meal which had been put in front of it. sensing its opportunity it lunged for my sister- younger than me and visibly smaller. of course we had tried to run by this point, having to be exquisitely careful on the wet and loose clay which made up the earth.

all this did was make sure that the coyote could only get its maw on the arm which trailed behind her as she ran. her other hand broke from mine when it happened and she yelped in pain- i turned to watch the animal gnaw. it had clearly lost out on the pickings under the sun, skinny and decrepit. but i could not bring myself to feel sympathetic when i saw the blood hit the earth and run with the water, i could only feel my own blood run through my own veins. with a confident leap i went to face the coyote, going to press my hands around its neck. distracted, it bucked and twisted unde my body weight, biting my arm too as i went to hold the muzzle shut. with all the clay in its face and my hands around its neck, regardless of my own injuries, he did not last long.

i have long outgrown the cape made from his skin, but even these days i stop to admire it alongside the scar tissue along my am.


End file.
